


Too Much or Not Enough

by allimarie_xf



Series: Not your typical secretary [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season/Series 02, angst angst angst, but like it's not that bad okay, conceivably canon-compliant, did i say angst because i meant angst, post 2x10 at least, pre-oliver/sara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 08:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: He waited for her to acknowledge him.When she looked up, though, his stomach dropped at her cool expression. “Hey.” She looked away after having met his eyes for a bare moment.Oliver blinked at her in confusion, watching her face for signs, but she continued her research as if he weren’t sitting there. He huffed out an uncomfortable laugh. “Felicity….”She wrenched her eyes away from her monitor and met his gaze with calm equilibrium. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Queen?”~~~Season 2 Angst and UST for fun!~~~~





	Too Much or Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in that glorious space of time, post-2x10 (can be post 2x12 if you wish) and pre-Sara/Oliver (the end of 2x13), that we (well, me at least) would blissfully float in forever if we could. Come on, you know exactly what I mean.
> 
> This story could conceivably canon-compliant, if you want to look at things a certain way.
> 
> This story could also very happily kick off some canon divergence, if you want to look at things that way. I should probably just stop talking now.
> 
> Enjoy!

“That weapons cache we uncovered last - Felicity?” The lights in the lair were off, but Oliver called her name anyway, as if he could summon her. He flipped on the lights and descended the steps more slowly than he had originally intended.

Their last interaction at Queen Consolidated, earlier that day, had been a little off, which was atypical for them, leaving him feeling slightly unsettled. He had been hoping to catch her alone before Dig arrived.

Still, it took hardly any effort to convince himself that he wasn’t disappointed, merely unaccustomed to the silence. He changed into workout clothes and began training.

It wasn’t that Felicity was always there, though she usually was. But if she wasn’t there, Dig was there, and anyway somehow the hum of her computers and the clack of her typing had become his expected default. He had begun to take comfort in that familiarity. He didn’t think it consciously, but he was aware that her near-constant stream of words, her vibrant presence, were also a part of that comfort.

After some time had passed, Oliver reached his hands out to steady the swaying punching bag and glanced at Felicity’s workstation. Still empty. On his way to grab a towel, he checked his phone. 9:27, and no missed calls or texts from either of his tardy teammates. Irritation warred with worry, but the result was the same: he texted Felicity, jabbing “send” as if the motion could convey his annoyance. _Where are you?_

The beeping of the security system followed by Felicity’s unmistakable tread had an instantaneous calming effect on Oliver; she was safe, she was here, and that’s what mattered. “Where were you?”

The sound of Felicity’s measured steps preceded her down the staircase. To Oliver’s mild annoyance, Dig followed her closely. Felicity’s face was calm if a bit preoccupied, and Oliver thought she must not have heard him. “You didn’t answer my text.”

“I’m sorry. I was on my way down when I got your text.” She smiled at him perfunctorily. “Next time I’ll be sure to respond.” Noting her strange tone, he glanced at Dig, who just shrugged. Rather than push the issue, he watched Felicity go through the elaborate steps of booting up her system, consciously suppressing his irritation at the lost opportunity to be alone with her.

“I need you to look into someone named Jared Botwick. He runs an export business, supposedly legitimate, but his name’s cropped up one too many times lately. He’s probably small-time if anything, but we need to be connecting the dots to these arms dealers.”

“I’ll get right on that, Mr. Queen.” His head snapped up immediately, trying to get a read on her. He assumed she was making a joke he didn’t quite get, probably at his expense, but she refused to meet his eye. He chose to ignore it, because, even if he was the butt of her joke, her calling him Mr. Queen _did things_ to him, things he refused to examine, but things which were pleasant all the same.

Trying to get back into a groove, Oliver started sparring with Dig, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of _wrongness_ between him and Felicity, nor could he concentrate while it went unresolved. He found himself trying to come up with an excuse to talk to her. Finally, prompted by Dig’s third or fourth exasperated look, he grabbed a towel and gravitated toward her desk.

“How’s the search going?” He spoke offhandedly, half-sitting on her desk, decidedly in her personal space.

She shifted her eyes toward him, but didn’t otherwise react to his nearness. “It’s going well. I created a database of known associates, business deals - legitimate and otherwise - and am cross-checking everything with everything we know already.”

Oliver waited a beat, then leaned further into her space, ostensibly to peer more closely at her monitor.

“Is there anything else you’ll be needing, Mr. Queen?” Her tone was measured, not hostile, but deliberately dispassionate.

He stared at her penetratingly, trying to discern her motive, trying to erase the distance she seemed set on creating. “What’s going on, Felicity?”

She closed her eyes for a long moment before looking at him. Her eyes were cool. “Everything is fine, Mr. Queen.” She watched her words land; a direct hit. “Will there be anything else, or can I go back to my work?”

Oliver stared at her for a long moment, comprehending what she was trying to do, but not understanding why. “Felicity.” He laughed, trying to draw her back into their easy camaraderie. Hoping it could be that simple, though not expecting it to be. At a loss for a moment when he failed to lighten the mood, he sat still for a long, indecisive moment. Finally he reached out and touched her arm, hoping physical contact could get them back on the same page because it always did. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t react to his touch, not at all. “Nothing’s wrong, Mr. Queen. I’d like to get back to my work, if you don’t mind.”

“I _do_ mind.” With a jolt not dissimilar to waking up to an unfortunate reality, he realized he was going to have to go _there._ He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Is this about today?”

She met his eyes suddenly. His words had unwittingly confirmed that what might have gone unrecognized, allowed to pass as a nothing, was actually a _something._

Oliver sighed, already thinking of damage reduction strategies.

Felicity regarded him silently, blinking.

Oliver suddenly felt an irrational surge of annoyance. He clenched his hands into fists before speaking lowly. “Am I not supposed to ask for your help? Look, I know it’s _beneath you_ , being my Executive Assistant, but -”

“No.”

He fell silent, her tone stopping him from directing the argument to a topic that, while not entirely settled, was at least comfortably familiar.

“That’s not what this is about.”

He thought about what this _was_ about: how he had seen her talking to...what’s his name? Clint? Trent? From Billing. The smiling. The laughing. The leaning. The lingering. How he had pinged the private instant messaging program she’d set up between their office computers, through which they typically kept up a constant stream of chatter. She’d built the program so they could easily discuss QC matters without having to constantly get up and go to each other’s desks (she was, after all, EA in name only, while in reality serving more as co-CEO), with the added benefit that they could just as easily - and securely - mingle Arrow business into their discussions. They’d quickly developed a new, effortless mode of communication that deftly flitted from talk of Portfolios to Applied Science projects to high-powered rifles to _Battlestar Galactica_ references...and it helped Oliver get through the day. But today, as she flirted with Grant, she’d ignored the stream of chimes he sent her way. After the 6th or 7th message, she’d looked directly at him, met his gaze through the glass pane that separated them, and clearly returned a message of her own: _Not. Now._

He’d watched as she turned away from him, counseling himself to let it go. But the way Brent was looking at her grated on him, and without examining his motives more closely, he’d stood up. He’d walked through the glass door, he’d met Quint’s slightly apprehensive glance with a cool confidence. Intimidating guys like him was second-nature to Oliver; he didn’t spare it a conscious thought. He’d approached Felicity from behind, noting from her tensed shoulders that she knew he was there. Recklessly pressing ahead anyway, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders and leaned down to whisper in her ear: “Can I talk to you for a moment, Miss Smoak? They’re calling an emergency Acquisitions meeting and I’m going to need a brief on my desk within 30 minutes.” He’d looked at Kent with a dismissive smile, not bothering to remove his hands from Felicity’s rigid shoulders. “Trent, right? I’m afraid I need to steal Miss Smoak right now.”

“It’s Zach, actually, and..yeah, okay.” Belatedly, Oliver had pulled his hands away from Felicity, stepping back just far enough to remove the possibility of accidental physical contact, but not far enough to release her from the sudden demand he had placed on her. Zach had looked briefly at Felicity, then back to Oliver, then back to Felicity. “I’ll catch up with you later, then.” He smiled tentatively, gave a shy wave, and spared a final glance at Oliver before turning toward the elevator lobby.

Waiting for the elevator to carry Zach out of sight, Oliver moved toward Felicity’s desk, leaning over her keyboard and staring at her monitor. The truth was, he did need an Acquisitions report for an emergency meeting - well, “emergency” in that it had been called that morning and he and Felicity had been compiling the brief together all day. As Felicity had been talking with Zach, Oliver had received an email introducing a new element that they’d need to prepare for, which, while hardly constituting an emergency, did mean they had more work to do than originally planned.

Felicity walked toward her desk with small, measured steps, pausing far enough away that she had to crane around to look at her screen. “What’s so urgent?” Her voice carried no emotion or curiosity.

The elevator doors closed.

Oliver stepped into her space, aware he’d infringed upon some of their careful boundaries, but more relieved that Zach was gone than sorry about how he’d gotten rid of him. He let out a little laugh. “That guy can’t seem to leave you alone, right? I swear, it’s like every week he’s got some excuse to come bother you. _Zach_ . From _Billing_.” He let the name hang in the air like it was the punchline to its own joke. “He’s definitely got a thing for you.” He smiled down at Felicity, waiting for her to look up and laugh with him.

She didn’t look up. Instead, she asked in the same quiet voice, “Did something happen? With the Acquisitions meeting?”

Oliver bit his lip and stared down at her for a long moment. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, uh, Dynamic Solutions Corps. apparently has an interest in Digicom. Legal knows all about it but apparently no one thought to alert the CEO...it’s just. We need to contact Legal and make sure we have all the details. It shouldn’t be a big...deal.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

“Felicity, I didn’t -”

She looked at him, finally, cutting him off with the stillness in her eyes. “I’ll get right on it.”

Dismissed, Oliver tried a parting smile, but she had already looked away.

Upon returning to his desk, Oliver glanced at the ChatRuse program (a play on _chartreuse_ , which was apparently a shade of green, according to Felicity) and willed it to blink with a new message, but it remained inactive. Eventually, Felicity’s name indicated she was “idle,” and he decided to let her finish the work he’d inadvertently assigned her in peace.

At 3:45, she’d brought him a folder containing the brief they’d put together, and, rather than following him to the couches in his office to go over together, she’d surprised him by excusing herself. “I gotta go to the...ladies,” she’d rolled her eyes in mild self-deprecation. “You got this?” Her tone was solicitous enough that Oliver was somewhat reassured that everything was, after all, okay between them. Only she hadn’t returned 10 minutes later when he had to leave for the meeting. And when he came back two hours later, she was already gone for the day.

They way they’d left things had bothered him enough that he wanted to clear the air with her tonight, wanted to apologize, if necessary, for... _something._ But he wasn’t prepared for her open hostility. Coldness. A refusal to meet him halfway. “What is it about, then? Look, I’m sorry that I treated you like a subordinate. You know you’re basically running the company with me, and I’m grateful for that, Felicity. I wasn’t going to ask you to deal with Legal today on your own, but you just kind of took it upon yourself and you didn’t seem to need my help, so….” He set his jaw and stared at her, waiting for her to see reason. He wasn’t going to apologize when she was the one who had shut him out.

Felicity was regarding him with unrestrained disbelief. “Wow, Oliver, you really -” The alerts on her computer suddenly starting beeping loudly and insistently. Her fingers flew over the keyboard in response. “There’s an active shooter situation in Pennytown. Near the intersection of Yarmouth and Hopper. I’ll send you the coordinates when you’re on your way.”

Oliver and Diggle had already sprung into action, the practiced motions of suiting up serving as mental preparation for whatever was to come.

  

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Oliver returned to the lair a couple hours later with Dig on his heels. He knew it’d be empty of Felicity, as she’d casually mentioned during their mission debrief that she’d be heading home. Oliver had felt the pang of disappointment he’d come to expect whenever she left before he had a chance to connect with her post-mission (like closing a circuit, the image came from nowhere), but tonight he also felt a little relieved. Their conversation from earlier had been quickly going nowhere good. He didn’t let himself consider the particular nature of the danger; the fact that the direction of the argument was out of his control was reason enough to make a tactical retreat.

Dig’s slightly hesitant voice intruded on his thoughts. “I take it something happened with Felicity.”

Oliver looked up at Dig with a mild warning in his eyes, hoping to stave off a lecture, or an argument, or whatever uncomfortable interaction inevitably resulted when John Diggle took it upon himself to intervene in matters concerning Oliver’s relationship with Felicity.

Dig took a deep breath. No such luck. “Look, I don’t know what went down between you two, but you need to apologize. Clear the air.”

Oliver gave his partner a fierce look. “I don’t think -”

“And no, don’t say it’s none of my business because the way I see it, it _is_ my business when the two people I’m relying on to have my back in the field are so caught up in whatever _this_ is that they can’t be bothered to look out for me.”

After a long moment, Oliver buckled under his glare. “I’m sorry, Dig. Yeah, you’re right, if those cops hadn’t -”

“This isn’t about what ifs, Oliver. It worked out, it’s done. This is about doing better next time. This is about working your shit out, now, and making sure nothing like this ever happens again. You copy?”

Oliver nodded, contrite.

“So you’re going to apologize?”

Oliver sighed heavily. “I don’t have anything to apologize for.”

John scoffed in disbelief, though whether over the idea that he was blameless or that he was still arguing after having just promised that he’d fix things with Felicity, Oliver didn’t know. “Yeah, fine. I’ll tell her I’m sorry. Though if she wants to continue to be mad at me, I really don’t see what I can do about it.”

Dig closed his eyes, shaking his head. This man. “Goodnight, Oliver.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Oliver woke early the next morning, giving himself plenty of time to stop for coffee before work while still beating Felicity to the office. He was _pretty sure_ she never got in earlier than 8:30, but to be safe, he got there at 8:15. Regardless of what he had told Dig, he really did want to make things right with Felicity. He missed the typical easiness between them, the way he didn’t have to constantly guard against being mistaken and misunderstood. He relied on her to understand him, or, failing that, to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. So, while he didn’t exactly think he had been _wrong_ to treat her like his Executive Assistant when, as far as Zach from Billing knew, she _was,_ he had made up his mind to make a conscious effort to show his appreciation more.

At 8:36 he heard the elevator arrive, and he watched as she approached her desk, her footsteps slowing as she neared the large coffee cup waiting on her desk. She glanced at Oliver, lips pressing in an appreciative smile. He nodded back.

He waited for her to settle before sending the message. _Good morning._

He watched the animated ellipses on his screen, indicating that she was typing. He glanced at her through the glass, searching her profile for an indication of her mood. _Good morning. Thanks for the latte. :)_

 _You’re welcome._ The smile dropped off his face as he paused, considering how to proceed. _About last night…_

_Oliver, it’s fine._

_It’s not fine, you were right._

_…. About?_

_I really appreciate all the work you’re doing here. At QC. And, you know, at night. Ha. You know what I mean._

There was a longer than expected pause while Oliver waited for ChatRuse to indicate that Felicity was typing. He looked up at her, wondering if something else had caught her attention, but she was hunched forward, arms in her lap, eyes fixed on her monitor. Oliver watched her for a long minute before she sat up and started typing again.

_Thank you for saying so. And thanks again for the latte. I guess I better get to the approximately 10,000 emails that aren’t going to write themselves. :)_

_Okay._

_:)_

Oliver watched her for a few more minutes as she settled into her work, wondering, hoping that things had been settled that easily.

The day proceeded typically, and if Felicity wasn’t particularly talkative on ChatRuse, it wouldn’t be the first time that an abundance of work had dimmed her habitual chattiness.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

As Oliver arrived at the Foundry that night, he admitted to himself that he was looking forward to seeing Felicity. He missed her, which was silly, since he was typically in her physical presence at least 14 hours a day. But when they were together as Oliver Queen, CEO and his Executive Assistant, they were definitely playing a part - one which belied the fact that she was closer to him than almost anyone else in his life. And when they were together in the Foundry, their relationship was stripped of its subterfuge, but they were still locked into their respective roles: the Arrow and the tech-genius. The mission always came first. It was the axis around which all their interactions legitimately revolved. And, yes, they were also avowed friends at this point, but more for lack of a better term than for any space in their relationship reserved solely for the enjoyment of each other’s company. Besides, who had time for friendship?

And yet…. In their private, uninterrupted time together at the office, whether over chat or in person, something like actual friendship had crept in. In that space, they had somehow become just Oliver and Felicity. And today, when she had been too busy to talk to him, he had missed that interaction acutely. He had missed _her_.

So he took the steps two at a time, hoping to grab a little Oliver and Felicity time wherever he could get it.

He found her seated at her station, entrenched in some sort of research. He perched on her desk, inches from her mousepad. “Hey.” His voice was eager, just like his face probably was, but for the moment he didn’t care. He waited for her to acknowledge him.

When she looked up, though, his stomach dropped at her cool expression. “Hey.” She looked away after having met his eyes for a bare moment.

Oliver blinked at her in confusion, watching her face for signs, but she continued her research as if he weren’t sitting there. He huffed out an uncomfortable laugh. “Felicity….”

She wrenched her eyes away from her monitor and met his gaze with calm equilibrium. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Queen?”

Oliver expelled a disbelieving breath as he pushed off her desk only to walk around to the other side of her chair. “This again? Felicity, what the hell is going on with you?” He crouched at her feet, peering into her face, hoping the new angle would lend him some insight.

She glanced at him before looking resolutely back at her monitors. “Nothing is going on, Mr. Queen. Everything is fantastic.”

“Bullshit.” He put his hand on her thigh when she didn’t respond. “Felicity, that’s bullshit and you know it. Okay, obviously this is all related to yesterday. I thought I apologized, I thought you accepted my apology, but clearly I’m missing something.”

She looked at him then, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes a mask. Without looking down, she pushed his hand from her leg.

“Felicity. What is this about?” He searched her eyes for evidence of a coded message, as if their expansive lexicon of minute facial shifts, which they had perfected and relied upon in hundreds of scenarios where the two of them needed to communicate privately when not alone belonged to an entirely separate version of herself - one which would privately sympathize with him, as per usual, even to the exclusion of this foreign version of herself. “Talk to me.” There was a new, desperate edge to his voice this time.

“What would you like to talk about, Mr. Queen?” She glanced back toward her computers before continuing with elaborately mild reproof, “I do have a lot of work to do.”

“Felicity!” He grabbed the arms of her chair and swiveled it fully toward him, standing up so he could lean down into her space. She had the audacity to startle. “NO.” He leaned in suddenly, cutting the distance between them by half. She turned her head abruptly to the left, recoiling from his nearness. Oliver huffed out a disbelieving, hurt breath, then straightened, turning. He took two long steps away from her before facing her again, hands tangling in his hair. “Felicity. Please.”

She fixed him with an unhappy look. It was better than a veil of blankness.

In two strides he was in front of her again, on his knees. He reached a tentative hand toward her face before settling it back in his lap. “Why are you treating me like this?”

The look in her eyes had finally crystallized into something specific, something distant and hard that he didn’t recognize. “Treating you like what, Mr. Queen?”

“So...cold, so...not like you….”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Queen. It wasn’t my intention to offend you.”

“Stop calling me that!”

Felicity looked at him in mock puzzlement. “Mr. Queen?”

“Yes, Felicity, stop! You know what you’re doing, and you haven’t called me that for... _never._ ”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Queen. I was only trying to be polite.”

“Felicity.” Oliver placed his hands on her knees, disregarding the sudden way she tensed her body, knowing it was part of the deliberate distance she was creating between them. Knowing she did it to hurt him, even as it worked. He hardly knew whether to be angry, apologetic, or worried about her, but the wall, the distance, was unbearable. “Please don’t talk to me about polite. I’m your...Oliver. Your friend. We….” His hands pressed into her thighs just above her knees, attempting to reestablish their connection physically when words failed.

Felicity was shaking her head, her eyes fixed on some point behind him before she pinned him with a direct stare. “No. You don’t get to call me your friend just because it’s convenient for me to be your friend right now.” She stood up abruptly, dislodging his grip on her legs, forcing him to sit awkwardly back on the floor. Oliver watched her walk to the far side of the lair, as far away from him as she could get.

Slowly, Oliver stood. He watched her back and shoulders heave as she tried to gain control of her breathing. The sound of dripping water, a constant in the Foundry, seemed suddenly loud, reminding him of the sounds of a second-hand marking the time slipping into history, compelling him toward her. He hesitated just behind her, suppressing the urge to wrap his arms around her. “Felicity, will you please talk to me.”

She turned and let him see the hurt in her eyes. “If that’s what you want, Mr. Queen.”

Oliver’s breath caught in his throat at her sudden nearness, her sudden vulnerability. His eyes dipped to her lips reflexively, and he blew out a hard breath, trying to unravel his confusion. “I want to fix this. I don’t know how to fix this if I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, but she didn’t run away. “You’re an idiot.”

Oliver sucked in a surprised breath. “I know.” He waited, but it seemed she wasn’t going to help him figure this out. “I know I treated you like an inferior yesterday in front of a co-worker. I guess I just….”

Felicity was silent, her eyes expectant.

“I wasn’t trying to make you seem like _less_ , Felicity. You know how much I value you, not just for your work at QC, not even just for your work down here, for….” He shook his head. “I hate having to pretend that you’re just some glorified secretary. If anything, I was just trying to get rid of _him_ , you know. So we could drop the CEO/EA facade and get back to just being Oliver and Felicity.” He offered an uncertain smile, caught off guard by his own honesty.

“' _Him’_?”

“Yeah, you know. Zach. From Billing.”

“Oh my god, Oliver! Why can’t you admit it, even to yourself?”

“Admit what?”

“Admit that you, I don’t know! I honestly don’t know, Oliver, I really don’t. But every time I try to reach out to normal people at Queen Consolidated, maybe have like a normal relationship, you... _insert yourself._ Like they’re not good enough or something, like -”

“Well they’re not! Come on, Felicity. Zach from Billing?” His hands had settled on her shoulders, where he gripped her tightly.

“Why do you feel the need to control every aspect of my life? Do you think that just because I’ve given all my time, almost every piece of myself, to you, that you own it completely? Let me have something of my own. You already have everything else. I’m down here with you every night, I’m there with you every day. You’ve become such a part of me that sometimes I don’t even know whose goals I’m working toward. So forgive me if I am trying to find a bit of separation, something unconnected to you, to us.”

“You want separation?” In that moment he knew he was a selfish bastard but he couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his lips, couldn’t stop how unmistakably wounded he sounded as he said them.

On an exhale she continued, “It’s not even about what I want, Oliver. Because you, me, the way we work together? The way we talk? How easy it can be, when you let it be? It’s everything. Everything and nothing, because you won’t let it be anything.”

Oliver’s gasp was audible. _Because of the life that I lead…_ It was as if she had made the words themselves appear in the air between them.

She smoothed her hands up his chest, stilling them at his collar and letting her elbows rest along his body.  “So no, I don’t want something outside of what we already have, but I _need_ something outside of what we have. Because this, between us, is too much, or not enough.”

When he had spoken those words about keeping himself apart from anyone he could come to really care for, Oliver had felt like he was uttering a spell of preservation, but suddenly he realized that Felicity had understood it for what it was - a curse, capable of inflicting unknowable pain. What neither of them had known was that it was a curse that gained its potency because it bound the two of them together even as it held them apart.

“Felicity, I….” He pushed strands of hair behind her ears, conscious of how close their bodies were. “I don’t know what to -”

“It’s fine, Oliver. I understand.” And somehow, she did. She couldn’t put it into words, but somehow the tangle of conflicting impulses that governed Oliver’s decisions had always made a strange sort of sense to her. Not that she agreed with his decisions most of the time, but she recognized what made him tick, in an unexamined sort of way. She knew there was something between them, something that had been been there from the very start, something that had been growing more apparent lately. It was enough, for now, that they both recognized it. “But you can’t have it both ways. You said it was better to not be with someone you could really care about, and that’s your choice, Oliver. I respect that. But you have to let me make _my_ own choice. ”

As if of their own volition, Oliver’s thumbs strayed to her bottom lip. He stared at her mouth for a long time, and when he looked up, Felicity read deep emotion in his eyes, but also deep conflict, and she knew he wasn’t ready to be making any sort of long-term commitment just then; she doubted even she was ready. All she knew for sure was that she wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him. So she did.

She raised slightly on her toes and ran her palms up his firm chest, anchoring arms around his neck, and letting their lips just touch. Just one soft press, and Oliver gasped, winding one hand into her hair, sliding the other down her back, gathering her body closer to his. Holding her there for one shared inhale, one shared exhale.

Letting the possibility of a shared future unfurl between them.

“Felicity.”

Her hands tangling in the short hair on his neck, his lips capturing hers gently, playing, nipping, tasting. Her mouth opening to his, his hands gliding down the curve of her body, pressing her into the space between his legs.

Standing, stilling, their bodies pressed together, gasping, shocked, at the rightness of it.

Letting the possibility of a shared future expand around them.

Her reaching up, smoothing her fingers along his jaw even as she pulled back, his lips chasing hers, placing one, two more kisses over her lips. Her bringing his hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles, looking into his blue, blue eyes. Catching her breath. Catching his breath.  

Sighing. Stepping back, separating, until the only remaining connections were their eyes and their hands.

“Oliver.”

He nodded, knowing what she was going to say. Knowing that really, nothing had changed. “Now we know.”

She nodded back, solemnly. “Now we know.”

After a moment of reflection, it was Oliver who cracked a small smile. “It’s definitely something to keep in mind.”

And she smiled back, slowly, with happiness in her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, now that you've read the thing, I can be honest. 
> 
> This was not the thing I meant to write (when is it, though?). I really just wanted some sexy angst, maybe even some smangst, but the plot kept speaking to me in a stern tone, telling me all about how, like, what Oliver did was actually really shitty and there was no way that Felicity was going to collapse into sexy funtimes without truly having it out with Oliver, so...yeah. We got stuck with more angsty drama than angsty sex, and I'm really sorry about that. 
> 
> I am legitimately considering giving this same plot-bunny another go, hopefully with less drama and more sex, but we'll see. 
> 
> That being said, I kinda liked the little universe I made here (and yes, CEO Oliver and EA Felicity are my most favorite place to play), so I would absolutely consider writing more one-shots loosely within this 'verse. If there's an audience for that. Let me know, ppl! Thank you. :D


End file.
